


Beauty Behind His Madness

by Analphancones



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, M/M, Most Angst, Sadness, lying, slam piece, smut MAYBE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 09:57:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15749367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analphancones/pseuds/Analphancones
Summary: Phil Lester didn't have much to offer. A drug addicted drop out who Dan was utterly fascinated by. Every moment together was a breath of fresh air for sheltered Dan whose mother seemed to control his life a little too much. When Phil tells Dan he was taken up with someone else, Dan is hurt and thinks it's over. Except it's more or less the opposite.





	1. Chapter 1

When he first told me he was seeing somebody, I had the same thought as any one else would. //So this is it.// 

Of course, I was not so lucky. Just because he was seeing somebody else didn’t mean he no longer wanted me, in fact, it seemed the opposite. As if he wanted me more. Why would he want me more, a question to which the answer I do not have. 

When we were alone it was like nothing could stop us. Before he would kiss me, his lips only gravitated towards mine with cautious tension. Almost like fear. Fear of making the wrong move, upsetting me, fucking up. I was the first person he ever slept with. I thought I was special for it. I was just a warm up, though. For when he found someone else. 

When I would giggle, laugh at a playful insult he would pout. He would pout at me for smiling. He never said it but I knew he loved my smile. My dimple. My crooked teeth. When we would smoke a cigarette together, he always had to play music. It was habitual for him to bust out his phone and start playing whatever sounded good in the moment. Our nights together were a peaceful sensation. Like we were an unstoppable dynamic duo. 

Until his friends came by. His roomates. If I so much as even tried to kiss him, he was shy, embarrassed. Or so he said. He just didn’t want them to know he was entertaining the idea of being with me. I was alright with it though, I understood. We were 15 and 17, my mother hated him so I had to do a bit of sneaking around as well. It made sense at the time. Red flags never appeared to be what they were until it was too late for me. 

Yet when I walked into his apartment when no one was around, he looked stunned by me. Every time, he was silent. Staring. Like a four second trance had entirely consumed him. When I would rest my head on his shoulder, he would pet my hair. He would run his fingers through my hair slowly because he knew how much I liked it. I think, looking back, he liked it too. 

I recall so vividly our first night together. We had established our mutual interest, but we were both shy. He was the guy to talk a big game, about his sex life and the many folk he had allegedly bed. Yet that first night, while I lay on his stomach and his fingers ran through my brown locks, he confided in me that he had never been with anyone. Despite the rumors of himself he had spread. 

I was okay with that. I felt special he told me that. That big secret no one else was ever able to uncover, it took me but a night. To this day I am unsure if it was a lie or not. 

Our second night together he threw me out. It was getting late and while I did have a curfew I wasn’t wanting to miss, we were mid coitus. He still told me to leave. I’ve never met a man to do that before. I asked if I could just stay another night. He insisted I couldn’t. I never got a reason. 

While when his friends and family were present I was nothing, when we were alone he saw galaxies in my eyes. The pads of his fingers would indent my skin with the slightest of touch, the feeling lingering for hours after he had pulled away. His kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue. The first time he kissed me he had been so nervous he pulled back, asking, “Was-was that okay?” Of course it was okay, I assured him. I loved it. 

He tasted like camel wides and smelled like ash and water. Like a kum and go cup full of tap water that someone has put out their cigarettes in. It sounds awful, but it wasn’t. It was something I could never again smell without laying next to him just long enough to catch a wisp of his scent. 

Everyone of my friends thought I was an idiot for putting any thought towards the idea of being with him. He was a low life drop out who sold dope. Of course it would have been dumb to be with Phil Lester but I loved him. Or at the least, knew I could love him in due time. 

People had dared to say shit about my liking him because according to most, he wasn’t conventionally attractive I suppose. I liked him though. I liked looking at him. I liked his messed up discolored teeth, I liked his attitude, I liked his dark ebony hair that felt a little strange to the touch but I wouldn’t have had any other way. I liked him. 

When he told me he had found somebody else, I was crushed. I was angry. We weren’t dating sure, but I had surely earned the right to be considered something less disposable. I told him to ask her out though. That I was happy for him. I’d be here for him. He took that as he could keep fucking me behind her back. 

I guess I just need someone I can tell my story too. The story of how Phil Lester made me realize how much more I had to offer, and how little people like him had to offer.


	2. My Roommate Is Home

“Have you heard the new song SuicideBoys put out?” He asked. We were sat on the bottom step to his apartment complex, enjoying the warm weather. I shook my head, taking a slow drag off my cigarette and watching him pull it up on his phone. 

The music played visibly through the thin grey smoke flying away in the wind. Everything with him was more vibrant, more radiant. The greens of the grass and trees, the grey and blacks in the asphalt, the pinkish tone of his lips. Everything colorful was a whole new array, as if I had been colorblind my whole life until I had met him. 

His music taste was something I took up immediately. The day we met he would only smoke with music. I had never enjoyed anything like his taste before, but something about sitting on the pavement with him that day hearing something new to me, with someone even newer, was all it took for me to change completely when it came to what I listened too. 

I leaned back, resting my head on his knee. His free hand moved to my head, gently moving his hand through. It was like breathing for the first time in forever when he touched me. When his skin was touching mine I felt like I was floating. When he kissed me it was like nothing could hurt me, I was invincible, indestructible. 

His laugh was deep and chalky, like the faint sound of powder being knocked off a blush brush. It was unlike anything else, a sound only distinguishable in complete silence. As if my mind, body and soul fed off the sound of him happy. I did anything and everything I could to bring that out of him. I guess he never appreciated it that much, though. Someone else did it better for him. 

He talked about her constantly. She was the light at the end of the tunnel for him. I never said anything about it though. Because even when his lips were against mine, it was she whom he was missing. For when his hips were moving in tune with mine, his mouth ghosting over my neck and shoulders with warm breath and soft moans, it was her he was picturing. Never me. It was never about me. So I fought hard to try and change that. Of course, to no avail. 

I kept trying anyhow. I guess I figured, someday, you know? 

He would finish with me and talk to me. I guess in a way, I let him speak of her so fondly in front of me because I thought he trusted me to confide him. He felt comfortable and confident telling me things. I assumed, perhaps, it never even crossed his mind just how much I was hurting. So I kept my mouth shut in fear. I let him talk. 

Every time he saw her, he looked at her differently than he looked at me. While he was slightly taken aback with me, with my first appearance into a room, his smile followed her every move. His eyes followed her hair, her scent, her laugh. His eyes only followed my ass. My hips. My sensual aura was all he seemed to be interested in. Like a best friend he can sleep with, get his daily dose of attention and affection with no demands or expectations in return. I played okay with it though. 

I hated her for his attention. I thought she looked cheap. Dyed blonde hair, walmart jewelry nose piercing, shitty tattoos that a kindergartener could have doodled better with a crayon. She was stunning, a gorgeous women who I knew I would never compare too. Shit, we weren't even the same gender. 

Dani was a beautiful, vibrant young woman in her prime and I was Dan Howell. Matching hair and eyes and white-grey skin. Nothing spectacular. 

I tried to make up for it in personality but he still never looked at me like her looked at her. I pretended not to notice every time. What else could I do? The more attention I payed the more heartache I suffered. 

“Dylan’s home.” My thoughts were interrupted, the new song he was showing me ending. His roommates Ford Focus pulled into the parking lot driveway. “You should go, Danny.” 

I nodded, standing up and taking another marlboro ice from his pack. “Will you walk me to the bus stop?” I asked. He nodded, giving me that kindness as always. Of course, not without complaints. 

“It’s too fucking hot. I’m going home.” He said half way through the walk. I turned around, pouting. 

“Please stay? Just until the bus gets here.” I said as we continued our short walk across the highway. He sighed and agreed begrudgingly. 

Before the bus pulled in down the road, turning towards us he kissed me and began his walk home. His kiss stained a frown on my lips. 

I got on the bus and put in some headphones, listening to the song he had just showed me on loop. I wanted to know the words for the next time I saw him. I wanted to make him happy. Always.


	3. I Wish I Hadn't

There’s a bottle of tequila gold on his bedroom floor. I pick it up and drink. I never had drank tequila before, I was more of a vodka or rum person but I was in the mood to not be sober so I took what I could get. I only could drink a cap full at a time but he could down three shots back to back no problem. It was kind of sexy. 

Before I knew it my mouth was around his cock. It was rough and fast, maybe not my best work but when he came he pushed my head down and made sure I got everything he had to offer. A sI pulled away, a trail of spit and cum connecting my lips to his dick a smile grew on my face. I loved making him happy. 

He was never interested in touching me in bed. He had never gotten me off, given me head, or even touched the thing he loved to fuck most; my ass. He would grab, sure, but he wouldn’t even stretch me. Play with me. Make me feel good. It was all about him. I was okay with it, for some reason. I just liked making him happy. I loved making him happy. 

When Dylan came home it was too late for him to throw me out, so instead, Dylan welcomed me. We were the first borns to two drug addicted parents who had us raise our siblings for years. He liked me. He told Phil I was a keeper. Phil didn’t like taking advice though. 

Dylan and Phil sold meth together. It was never something that bothered me or intrigued me, it was just a fact about them I knew. Dylan offered me a bump. Phil warned me not too, he was unsure if I could handle it. Of course I had to prove him wrong. 

When I was sixteen years old I did meth for the first time. I was unashamed. It wasn’t particularly amazing or anything. When you see a tweaker you think if you do meth you’ll be exactly that way, but that’s wrong. You’d never know it either until you do the drug for the first time. 

My thoughts were a million miles and hour and I learned very quickly that men, meth and sex don’t mix. Neither of us could get hard. It was okay though. Because for the first time in a while, we talked. He opened up. He told me about his older sisters, about how he was never vaccinated, about how he never went to school until he was thirteen. 

It was always fun to learn about him. He didn’t like to tell me things. Always said his life was none of my business. I accepted that as just another fact about him. We shared a forty, miller high life the champagne of beers as it was his favorite and finished off the last of the tequila. 

When his other roommate came home and brought weed we smoked too. We used this shitty one hitter that looked like a cigarette and I eventually fell asleep with no pants on. He let his roommate with the weed touch me in my sleep. He didn’t stop it, he let it happen. It was okay though. I forgave him. Besides, I was asleep. It’s not like I remember it. He only told me about it as a courtesy and by then I knew he lied a lot to me. Maybe he just wanted to hurt me so he lied. I had no way of knowing. 

Phil had a way of making me angry but want more of him. He didn’t have a lot going for him but I liked him, I liked him so much I kept coming back. I wish I hadn’t.


	4. I Wondered Briefly What I Was Doing Wrong

//Car Jack

Gat packed, 

Hard head, 

Wig split, 

Die nigga, die nigga, die nigga, die// 

 

When his older sister finds out we’re sleeping together, she introduces me to her fiance as her brother’s boyfriend. Phil doesn’t like this. So he ghosts me for a month. I’m okay with that though, he just wants to make sure Rosia knows we aren’t together. I get it.

She was so happy her brother had me in his life though. Rosia loved me. I babysat for her sometimes, she had a two year old daughter named Hunter. She was a sweet little girl with a lot of personality and didn’t like to talk. Except to ask for food when she was hungry. Phil didn’t like I spent so much time with his sister and niece though, so he asked me to stop. I listened. 

When Dylan and I started becoming friends Phil took his phone and blocked me on all forms of social media we shared. I was okay with it though. I was getting to close, he hadn’t warmed up to that level yet. I was just being stupid, assuming after a year and a half of whatever it was we were doing, he would be okay with me being friends with his best friend and his sister. I guess not though. He still needed time. 

I was more than willing to give it to him. 

The next time I come over I can’t stay long. My mother wants me home to watch my younger brother, but of course, I’m late. I’m late because im sexually gratifying someone who won’t touch me in return, won’t bother to even try and get me off too. It’s all about him as usual. And as usual, I’m alright with it. 

Except the longer this is going on the more I’m not okay with this. It leaves me wondering if he would do this to Dani. And once it was confirmed they were sleeping together, instead of would he, I wondered does he. She seemed happy with him. So I guessed it was just me he did that too. 

Once they got more serious I was even further put on the back burner. Rosia tried to ask me about it but I shut down. Phil told me not to talk to her, so I walked off. I was always listening to him and I was getting so, so tired of it. And across the room his arm was around Dani and not once had he ever held me like that in public. I wondered briefly what I was doing wrong.


	5. The Best Shitty Thing He Did

On facebook Dylan posted about whether or not people can hang out without fucking. I said apparently not in the comments. Phil replied. 

We fought over facebook and I somehow ended up announcing to the world his dick was small and he was cheating on his girlfriend with me. I somehow ended up telling everyone who cared to go through those comments that day that he was a piece of shit who couldn’t sexually gratify anyone if his life depended on it. 

Dani said that was a lie, that he pleased her. It confirmed it was just me he discarded in the bedroom. I was like a practice quiz for him when it all boiled down. It was okay though. 

All my fascinations with him were slowly dying, as I was realizing there was nothing more to him than what he displayed. He wasn’t some deeply complicated mystery dying to be unraveled. He was a dope doing, dope selling, self harming dick who liked to make me feel like shit when he felt depressed. That’s all it was. 

I still missed him though. I missed his arm around me when I slept. I missed sneaking out at night to see him so that I wouldn’t have to be the one to wake up with my baby brother when he cried at night. I missed his voice. I missed his smell. I miss the taste of camel wides on his tongue. I missed being with a giant dick. 

When everything was said and done he cut off all contact with me and called it a day. I was alright with it. Like everything else shitty he did, I accepted it. Except this time, I actually didn’t have a problem with the situation. It was probably the best shitty thing he had ever done to me.


End file.
